The boywhocouldhavebeen
by Gosse
Summary: Neville's summer between 5th and 6th year.
1. Dear mum

**Right, well, this story is entitled "The boy-who-could-have-been" and this is going to be a multiple chapters fic. It's about Neville Longbottom (obviously) and it takes place between his 5th and 6th schooling years at Hogwarts. Hum… there's going to be some swearing and stuff so, Rated 13+ I guess**.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or the books or any of that good stuff. JK Rowling does. But let me imagine that I do, OK?  
**Author's Notes:** Please tell me what you think.

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The woman's laughter rang through the dim room. "Now you know what it's like to be playing with me!" she spit to the shaking figure on the ground. "Enough of it, Bella" said a cold, stiff voice. Bellatrix shivered. "Yes master" The lean and tall silhouette of the man on the other side of the room was now moving. He was pacing in front of the fireplace, which provided the only light of the room, and therefore looked like a simple black shadow. His head was down and he had in hands wrapped behind his back. For a moment, the room was silent except for the person on the floor who was now weeping convulsively, the crackling of the fire and the light footsteps of Lord Voldemort. He finally turned around slowly and gracefully and addressed the individual at his feet. "You know why we brought you here, don't you Shacklebot?" No answer came from the latter. The Dark Lord remained perfectly calm. "Very well" He cast a look to his loyal follower. She let out a mischievous smile and nodded lightly. Voldemort turned back to his fire, obviously lost in his thoughts. The raven-haired woman raised her wand and shouted: "Crucio!"

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About a thousand miles from there, in the English countryside, a teenage boy woke up abruptly. He passed his hand on his sweaty forehead and sited up in his bed. He took a circular look around his room. The moonlight illuminated it brightly by the curtains free window. On the desk in front of him were scattered pieces of parchment, a white feather quill and an ink bottle whose content lay over the deep brown wooden table. Besides that, on the floor, was a huge, worn-out trunk reposing open. The boy got out of bed and sat down in front of his desk. He drew aside said mess and took a fresh piece of paper. Absent-mindedly, he rolled his quill between his fingers and looked out the window. The moon shone big and bright and reflected on the calm surface of the pond. A light breeze gently hit the leaves who undulated by the force of it. The boy's mind floated away to a recent memory.

_Six teenagers were squashed into a battered telephone box. "Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!" called a voice. A short while later, the floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past its glass windows; blackness closed over their heads and with a dull grinding noise they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic. The Atrium was absolutely empty. A weird and chilly atmosphere floated in. _Why wasn't there anybody? _A chink of soft golden light hit their feet and, widening, rose up their bodies. As the lift slid smoothly to a halt, they caught sight of golden symbols that twisted sinuously in the dark blue ceiling. They erupted out of the elevator and fell on the ground over each other. Nervously, they stood up. A round faced blond boy gave his hand to a tiny redhead and held her close as though protecting her. The air was filled with tension._

Back in the present, the boy bit his nails with worry. He plunged his quill into the marine blue ink and held it still on the paper. How to begin? He smiled sadly at the thought of the ironic question; he always began the same way. _Dear mum…_

The sun was now about the height of the trees summit. It gently heated the top of the boy's head. He was now writing furiously fast with his nose about two inches from the paper. Down the stairs someone began to prepare breakfast. You could hear them manipulate plates and kitchen utensils. After a short while the noise stopped and the person sighed heavily. The boy in his room had noticed none of it and was still writing his letter. "Neville dear, come and have breakfast" called a female voice. The blond boy raised his head nervously. He was surprised to see the sun had risen almost completely by the time he was writing. He turned his head toward the door of the room, as though to respond to the person downstairs, but didn't say anything. He sighed and signed his letter. He then stood up and walked away from the room.

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Barry Dumpstone was sitting straight in a small collapsible grey chair. He was a young man with curled brown hair. The seat was not very comfortable and Barry, with his tall statute, was having problems staying still. The head-rest was hurting his back and his too long legs, which had to be extended, took about a half of the small corridor. Frequently, healers and patients were obliged to pass over them which caused great embarrassment for every party implied. The exhausted boy took out his round glasses and wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. He would be very thankful when they would finally arrive. He had not known precisely when Mrs. Longbottom and her pupil would arrive, so had been there since 6:00 am this morning. He was now quite sleepy and the brightness of the lights was making him dizzy. All this whiteness was annoying him. He wished to get out. But he had to get this done before.

Footsteps echoed through the corridor and Barry breathed heavily. He would have to painfully draw his legs back again. He would have to apologize again and there would yet be this discomfort feeling between him a stranger. He closed his eyes in hope for help. When he opened them, an old, grey haired lady, with green robes and a large red handbag was holding on to a blond boy's arm with firmness. They had already turned the corner before he could call out after them. He stood up and ran for them. "Mrs. Longbottom, Mrs. Longbottom!" he shouted, short on breath. The dame turned around shocked. "Now what is it, boy?" she asked bitterly. Barry bent down, his hands on both knees, gasping. Mrs. Longbottom looked more displeased than ever. "Well?" The man took one slow breath and said "I was sent by Professor Dumbledore to get Neville. Professor Dumbledore needs to talk to him, but he was too busy at the moment to come here by himself. He begs you to forgive him and wishes you a pleasant day." Neville looked up to his grandma, astonished. Mrs. Longbottom opened her mouth to talk, but Barry didn't let her a chance. "I'll wait 'till you're finished visiting, of course. I'll be waiting here. Professor Dumbledore says he'll send Neville back by Floo Network around dinner time tonight." There was a moment of silent stupefaction and Barry suddenly jumped! "Oy! I almost forgot." He took a piece of parchment out of the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to Mrs. Longbottom. "This explains everything" he said. "Well, as much as can be told in a letter… these days" he added mysteriously. Incredulously, Mrs. Longbottom regarded the envelope and finally said "Neville will be yours shortly". Then, they walked away, both holding a similar parchment envelope in a grotesque fashion of a mirror.

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**Reviews are you friends. :)**


	2. Thank you

**Emma Barrows: **Thanks for your review. As you can see I followed your demand and... updated soon. I'm currently reading your Silver lining. I'll review you! ;)

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**CHAPTER TWO**

The sunlight of the end of the afternoon gently enlightened the comfortable living room. It was mostly brown and yellow, with touches of red to it. Adele decorated it herself when she was just a young bride. Now her husband was long dead and she was an old, very tired, lady. She could still see their two sons, little Frank and Algie, running around the coffee table, purchasing each other. Now it was quieter around here. Yes she was raising Neville all by herself, but he had always been a calm child. She remembered having sometimes wondered if something was wrong with him. She loved the boy more than anything else in life, although she knew she treated him hard at times. In fact all the time. She felt guilty for it, but she was just and old lady, in fact a really really old lady.

A vinyl record was on, playing a smooth ballad. It was an old song, popular back in Adele's time. Edmond Clapton was singing yet another love song, but she still liked it, mostly because of his strong, deep, gentleman-like voice. Right now, she wasn't exactly listening to it. The grand-mother was sitting on the yellow, red flowered, couch with a concerned look to her face. She was still holding the unfolded letter, but wasn't looking at it. She was gazing through thin air, allowing time for the words she had read, and their signification, to sink into her mind. She was just as shocked as she could have been. In their hurry to hide and protect their only son, Frank and Alice had not told Adele about the prophecy. Why Albus had thought valuable to tell her, she didn't know. _His role will come at last_ Had he said. Other questions were easier to answer. Why did he tell her of this now, was an example. Adele knew that he felt the final battle was coming their way and soon.

Adele sighed and rested her back on the overly stuffed sofa. She gently closed her wrinkled eyelids and thought for the moment. She was too old for all the stress and fights that a war involved. She hadn't known her grand-son would have to play a role in this adventure. But now that it was pointed out to her, she feared for his very life. What kind of purpose was Dumbledore referring to? Whatever it was, Adele wasn't sure she'd survive to the loss of her only remaining reason to life.

Adele had probably fallen asleep because she awoken when Neville burst out of the fireplace, covered in ashes. He took a little step out of the fireplace, standing very still, his head down. He looked shy as though he'd done something wrong. Adele was rushed the urge to hug him, kiss me, tell him everything would be alright; but for a moment she couldn't. She knew she must do something, she truly wanted to, but truth is; she'd forgotten how to do that. Since the loss of her son and husband, some said she'd forgotten how to love, but she'd just forgotten how to express it. All these emotions therefore stayed bottled up inside of her heart, forcing her to show what looked like continual bitterness. She often complained Neville wasn't nearly as good a wizard as his father, but truly, she was proud of him. Neville was a good boy, kind to all, loyal, true and brave in his very own way. She knew she should have said something, but she stayed motionless.

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Neville expressed a quiet bewilderment. "You may go now" said Dumbledore, looking at him over his half-moon glasses "I assume your grand-mother is currently waiting for you with that fabulous grapefruit marmalade of hers." He winked at Neville. "And I think you'll agree with me that this will be enough stunning news for one night." Neville nodded. Dumbledore was smiling lightly as though they had just been sharing a Sunday tea. Neville turned away without a word and entered the green flames Dumbledore had already lighted.

Moments later, he found himself standing in his grand-ma's old-fashioned living room. She was asleep. He didn't mean to wake her up, but he had to do a little step to prevent himself not to fall head first on the coffee table. She opened her eyes and Neville's flew to the letter on his grand-mother's lap. He could guess what was in it now. They stayed there for some moment. Both knowing the astonishing new, but not bearing to talk about it just yet. He knew what she thought. He knew she thought he wasn't the right one for this. He knew she'd say he wasn't nearly as good as his father. He just wished she'd be proud of him for once.

All of a sudden, it happened. Adele stood up, came to Neville and… took him in her arms. Neville was struck dumb. His arms fell numbly to his sides and his eyes widened in shock. His head was squeezed between his grand-ma's arms and chest. Then, he remembered. He remembered hundreds of things. A moment with his mom when he was just a little kid: they were in a park, the blonde woman lying on her back on the green grass. Neville had to be about three. She was holding him at the tip of her arms to make him feel like he was flying. At the beach, the day his father had taught him how to swim. When uncle Algie gave him Trevor. One time where he was playing chests with grand-ma, someone made a wicked noise, they both jumped and then… then… they laughed. Together. Even the memory of it seemed weird to Neville. They had laughed and then looked away with embarrassment. Neville opened his eyes again and his grand released him. Slightly moved, she went to the kitchen. Neville stayed there for a while, gazing in bewilderment. In the end he just said very gently "Thank you".

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Albus Dumbledore looked at the blond hair on the back of Neville's head disappear from the fireplace. He took off his half-moon glasses and put two fingers where they had been sitting on his nose. He looked rather troubled. At first he hadn't meant to tell Neville about the prophecy, but things were getting a bit out of control and Albus was worried they would run out of time. He knew Neville had in him all the strength it took, but he also knew that, long years of depreciation by some of his peers and hard discipline from his grand-mother had weakened his self esteem. He sincerely hoped that Neville would in fact, have nothing to do with the final battle, but he doubted it would be the case. He feared_ sacrifice_ would be in order.

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At the Weasley's house, it was all confusion and promiscuity that day. I mean… more than usually.

In the middle of a quiet afternoon (Ginny and Ron were out to play Quidditch, Charlie, Bill, Fred, George and Arthur were at work and Molly was gently sewing), Arthur Weasley apparated in front of his wife in an abrupt "pop". It caused the poor woman to hurt her finger. A single scarlet blood drop fell to the white blanket she had been mending. "ARTHUR! How many times have I told the twins NOT to do that?" Arthur was redder than heaver and panting heavily. Molly raised her head and saw her husband's face. "Honey, what is wrong?" she asked, worried. Arthur was still fighting for breath and when he did not answer she hurried him "Arthur you are scaring me. Tell me! Is it the children?" Mr. Weasley shook his head and put a hand on his wife's shoulder and the other on his ribs. "Was in middle of London, had to run for miles before finding a place where I could disapparate from. Shacklebot… You-Know-Who… The Order. got to get the children."

Like in a bad dream, Molly saw herself from the top, just a bush of red hair whilst she was running in the garden to get to her youngest loved ones. They both ran for the door and their parents rushed them into the fireplace. The floor, encumbered with things that, in their fudge, they had made fall. No more red heads. Silence. **BOOM!** Grass, boards, bricks, dust, broken furniture… the sky. No more burrow.

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	3. What the hell?

**Cheelalaucha: Thanks for the review. :) Glad you liked it!**

**Well sorry... this took some more time to update... what with school starting over and all. And I had to rewrite this ten thousand times in order to get Brave!Neville right. Ah well... I hope you enjoy.**

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**CHAPTER THREE**

The horizon was a dark shade of pink with a golden halo. The sunset light filtered in the chilly veranda by the large dusty windows which covered three walls of the room from floor to ceiling. Three long, white plastic tables were aligned side to side. They were crawling under various kinds of magical plants. Neville sauntered from one to the other, pouring water into the green pot of a leaping toadstool, cutting the dead leaves of a flitterbloom, and carefully feeding his precious mimbulus Mimbletonia. His blond hair floating around, Neville walked from a table to the other as if he hadn't had a care in the world. This couldn't be less true.

Suddenly, the earth exploded to meet the roof. A loud 'bang' was heard and then… silence. Neville was lying under a pile of broken glass, tables, pots and bricks. He rummaged through the mess in order to conceive an opening so he could breathe. It wasn't working. He was suffocating. This whole thing was simply incredible. With a moan, he got out his brand new holly wood wand and murmured an incantation. Immediately, the remains that had been covering him flew to the corners of the room. Though there didn't seem to be any room left. Neville sited up: "What the hell?" His blond hair was covered in dust and his shirt was full of mimbulus Mimbletonia's Stinksap. His cheek was cut open and a touch of red blood coloured his face. His stood up in a flash, breathing loudly. _Gran!_ Neville ran through the house, having to jump at times over the detritus of what had once meant home to him. His heart was beating so loudly he was afraid it might jump out of his chest. Parts of the roof were falling around him and he had to be quick to avoid them. He passed between a couch caught on fire and gasped heavily. _I hope she's alright. _He ran a little faster. But where to look? _The kitchen!_ She had been about to cook supper. Neville turned a corner so fast the wall almost took his shoulder off. He entered a smoke-filled kitchen with a heavy sense of apprehension. He took a step inside the room and stopped walking. Silence.

He took a circular glance around the room. His senses were in alert. He was wary to hear any sound that might help him. He slowed his heart beat _"Calm down" _he ordered himself. All of a sudden, he saw a touch of green in the right corner of his eye. He ran for it and kneeled down beside his grand-ma'. She was completely still. _Her chest wasn't moving. _A single tear drop rolled among the hill of his cheek. Neville bent his head down to his grand-mother's face. He stayed like that for a while, his eyes widening in surprise. _That was a breath! _He was definitely hearing a breath. A soft, hush, untroubled and quiet breath, but it was still a breath. He cautiously took the old lady in his arms. She felt light and weak upon his arms. He carefully began to make his way through to the living room to access the fireplace. He knew exactly where he was going to go.

He was almost there when a small, red-ish owl came bursting into the room through the broken window. Neville tried to drive it out with a gesture from his hand, but the bird wouldn't drop it. Neville angrily took the letter from the bird's claws. It flew away. Neville dropped it carelessly and took a step inside the fireplace, still holding his grand-mother close to his heart. With one hand he managed to take of a pinch of green powder from a cup on the chimneypiece and threw it into the fire. He then said loud and clear _"Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry". _

The room was completely empty. The wind, coming in from the broken window, was sending diverse pieces of papers flying around. A small yellow-ish envelope of parchment was shoved open.

_Dear Mr Longbottom,_

_We have received intelligence that you have performed the Repelling Spell at fifty-three minutes past eight this evening._

_The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has to be clear._

_If you were to perform any magic outside the property of your school we would be forced to expel you from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and to destroy your wand._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic

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**REVIEWS! 3**


	4. Pumpkin Pasties

**Cheelalaucha: Sorry, none of your questions were answered in this chapter. Next chappie, almost sure. ;) Thanks for the review!

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**CHAPTER FOUR**

"And _voilà_!" Bill was teaching Ginny a Flame Freezing Charm. They were both sitting in the fireplace of a dark, large room. Molly was looking at them as though she wasn't exactly approving this, but the recent events prevented her from disapproving too harshly. Sure, the nine members of the Weasley family were all safe and warm, but some of them had just escaped a certain death. Mrs Weasley shot a glare around the room. Fred, George and Charlie were discussing Quidditch while Ron was writing on a torn piece of parchment at the table. Writing to Hermione, Molly expected. Arthur was out to get Percy. Percy didn't want to talk to his parents any more than he did the year before, but what had just happened was too important to let a Weasley out of it. Molly thought that Percy's sudden presence, without his agreement, would be sure to cause some embarrassment in the little troop, but Molly was too eager to see her little baby boy she hadn't seen in so long to worry about that.

They sure were recovering fast. Of course everybody had been shocked after learning what Ron, Ginny, Molly and Arthur had just escaped, but now that they knew everybody was just fine; they were just enjoying some family time as though everything was back at usual. Charlie had apparated right away from Egypt. Dumbledore had gotten in touch with him, and ordered them to stay all together. It was him who had sent Arthur to get Percy as fast as he could. He had then had a little chat with one of the portraits and left just as soon in a cracking noise. The man had other things to do.

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Neville coughed a few times and gasped for air. With useless movements of his hand, he tried to dissipate the thick cloud of ashes that was suffocating him. When finally he could see clearly, he seriously wondered where he was. He thought for a moment that he might have gotten out of the fire a little too quick, but he soon heard a familiar voice. "Good grief boy, Argus will go mad if he finds out you've been dirtying the whole school!" Irma Pince sounded bitter even when she was trying to be nice. "I need to see Professor Dumbledore" Neville said simply. "Well, it's impossible at the moment, I'm afraid…" Mrs Prince began. She cut off, surprised, just realizing what Neville was holding was not a pile of old cloths. "What happened to her?" Mrs Pince didn't seem reassured at all. She started trying to pull Mrs Longbottom from Neville "We've got to get her a healer. Come on boy, be reasonable! Let me have a look at her." But Neville wouldn't let loose of an inch his grip on his grand-mother. "I need to see Professor Dumbledore" Neville repeated.

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Albus Dumbledore had just reassembled the Weasley family and told Arthur to get to his third son as soon as possible. He was greatly concerned. Firstly, Shacklebot had not showed up for their meeting and Albus was afraid that his last mission might not have turned out so well. Then, there was this whole Percy business. The boy hadn't given any news for months now, and the old man was uneasy about his situation. He feared for his safety more than for his loyalty. Albus was sure he'd never see the day where a Weasley would turn out to be a traitor. Though the dark forces were sure to try soon to enrol him, Albus was confident the boy would not betray them. Exactly for this reason, Albus feared. He was not unaware of Voldemort's manners to kill people when they refused to join his side.

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Molly turned away from her children's and got into the kitchen. With a flick of her wand, she got cauldrons and plate out. She took 8 carrots from the refrigerator and when she pointed her wand at them, they began to peel themselves. Molly distinctly heard Albus converse with one of the portraits in the hall. "He's there? They're both there! You think she's hurt? Thank Phineas. I'll be there in a moment."

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When the Headmaster arrived, Mrs Pince was pulling onto the sleeve of Neville's shirt. Footsteps made her turn her head. "Headmaster!" she said, and her eyes expressed relief. "He won't let me check on her. She's hurt! We've got to find her an healer!" She seemed exhausted. Albus gently put one his long fingered hand on her shoulder "It's okay Irma. You may go now, I'll take care of them." His soothing voice seemed to tranquilize her. She walked away in a pace. Finally, the old man, looked at Neville. Neville seemed out of it. "Follow me Neville" Dumbledore turned around and started walking. He led Neville through the maze of the old castle. Neville held her grand-ma' close to his heart. _"This is weird_" Neville thought. Nothing seemed like the home he'd been leaving in for five years now. "Professor, has anything changed?" asked Neville in a clearly inquiring voice. Dumbledore stopped walking abruptly. He turned around to see if Neville was kidding or something. When he saw the look on Neville's face he just raised an eyebrow and said "I'm positive everything is just as you left it a month ago Neville".

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Neville continued walking in a second state of mind. He was looking around him with eyes wide open. He was exactly listening to Professor Dumbledore's speech, but the sound of his voice was somewhat relaxing. "Mrs Pomfrey's not here right now, so you'll just bring her in my office and I'll see what I can do" Professor Dumbledore was saying. Neville followed the old man through stoned corridors and turning stairs. The old man seemed to know where he was going, at least. When they at last arrived in front of the statue of a gargoyle, Dumbledore spoke the password "Pumpkin Pasties" and the door behind the statue opened to reveal a spiral wooden stair which moved upward slowly. Neville lightly jumped on it before was too high.

Neville opened wide eyes at the sight of Dumbledore's office. The room was circular with lots of windows and a really high ceiling. Some of the walls were covered in books from floor to roof and behind the master desk stood a brown, rich, leather couch. Neville's mouth fell open. He saw the Sorting Hat, a big crimson and gold bird, a pensieve and a gold, richly embedded with precious stones sword. Dumbledore pointed his wand at an uncomfortable looking collapsible chair and it turned into an old fashioned wooden bed with soft and warm beige covers. Neville carefully placed his grand-mother onto the goose feathers stuffed pillow. At the same time, Albus Dumbledore walked over to his phoenix Fawkes, whispered a few words to his pet and the bird flew out of the open window. The room remained silent. Neville had kneeled down on the floor, just beside his grand-mother's head, holding one of her hands. Albus sighed sadly at the touching sight. How much the boy had suffered. He didn't want to be the one putting him through any more harsh stuff. Finally, Dumbledore approached the small bed. At first, Neville was reluctant to leave his grand-mother's side, but Albus talked him into it. Calmly, with his deep blue eyes gazing into Neville's, he said "She's going to be alright, but you've got to let me take a look at her. I only mean to help Neville."

Dumbledore had been examining the elderly dame for a few moments when the door of the cabinet sprung open. The tall **(and it's nothing to say it)** figure of Rubeus Hagrid appeared into the door step. His black, glinting, beetles like eyes, shone with rush. His long, tangled, wild and bushy hair was flying around his face. He looked out of breathe. Just after his entrance, Fawkes graciously came flying in and gracefully posed his beaming gold claws on his iron perch. Albus looked up and caught a glance of panic into his friend's black eyes. "She's going to be alright Hagrid." Hagrid looked panicky. "Neville…" he said in a faint voice. "The boy's going to be alright as will, Rubeus. Now, look at me, I need you to do something for me." And when Hagrid's glare wouldn't leave Neville's demolished one; Albus made use of his legilimency skills to force Hagrid to obey him. "You're going to go find Minerva" the aged man went on. "I'm almost entirely sure you'll find her at Number 46 Strained Street. You know how to get there." Hagrid nodded sharply and turned to leave. Dumbledore raised one of his languish, bony finger and said "Hagrid…" The aforementioned, turned around, time stood still. "The safe way, if you shall" and Rubeus Hagrid turned his heels and left by the open door.

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**There you go. I'm liking the chappie that's coming up so, keep reading!**


	5. Silence

**Cheelalaucha: Thanks for continually reading! ;)**

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**CHAPTER FIVE **

All heads turned toward the door as a small blonde boy made his entrance. "Over here" called a voice from a dark corner of the high ceiling-ed room. The boy, who was pushing a steeling wheelchair, smirked in a mischievous way. "Yes, Father", he replied, drawling. The young boy firstly took a glance around the room: people; lots of people, all kinds of people. Some who'd never be suspected of being related to such people as himself. Some waved at him, some smiled weakly, some looked unsure of how to react: after all, this boy was the boss' son.

He then left the invalid and sat beside the man who had called for him. Draco's hair was just as sleek and pale as his father's. "You're getting older Draco." Lucius said with a somehow sneering voice. Draco straightened while hearing this. He seemed to be taking a lot of pride in the latest statement. Lucius caught a short glance at his son and got back to staring directly ahead of him like he had done from the beginning. "You will now be allowed to participate in some ways." He let his words float into the air for a moment. A distant fire was burning and crackling, but not bringing any warmth to the vast room. The silence seemed heavy and filled with insinuations.

"But you know this. We talked about it." Lucius stood up and started pacing in front of the chairs with his hands behind his back. "You will soon begin a formation period of an undetermined length. The Dark Lord will receive you personally some time during August" here, Lucius marked a pause. He sounded nervous talking about a meeting between his disciple and his master. For a long time, he didn't say anything. Draco remained completely still except for the frown which formed above the thin line of his eyebrows. Suddenly, a groan rose from the shiny wheelchair at the other side of the room. Lucius turned around sharply "Shut up Shacklebot!" he barked, with his most freezing voice "You will serve your purpose." He glared at him for a second and turned around "Everything in time".

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Ginny and Neville were playing exploding cards and laughing so hard it made them fight for breath. Footsteps soon were to be heard. "Well, look what we have here" said a warm, soft, motherly voice. "Hey Mom" Ginny greeted lazily. Neville stood up quickly and said with a stiff voice "Can I offer some help Mrs Weasley?" he was pointing at the grocery bags in front of the door. Ginny rolled her eyes. "Let go, Neville, you don't have to be such a stuck-up" Molly looked like she was about to disapprove, but she just ignored the comment. "No thanks, dear, I'll be quite fine" She turned around and smiled to the boy "I'm telling you Neville, everything's right" she flicked her wand and the bags began flying through the room and toward the kitchen. "See?" she said, smiling over her shoulder. Then, and only then, did Neville agree to sit back down.

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"MARY MOTHER OF GOD!" yelled a non quite pleased grand-mother from up the stairs. Three pairs of eyes immediately turned toward the ceiling. Molly sighed and got back to her dinner with a sad smile "I think that call's for you Neville". Neville nodded and ran up the stairs. The stairway was a rich tone of dark brown wood. The handrail which was finely carved, was obviously wand-made. The stairs were covered in a thick dark red carpet. The walls of the staircase were covered in paintings of old witches and wizards. That house just yelled abundance. 

When Neville finally made his way to his grand-ma's bedroom (as the house was quite big, it took him some time), she was cursing again. Neville shuddered. He posed his hand on the sculpted doorknob, but shouts prevented him from causing any disturbance. He simply stood there, waiting, his heart pounding.

"I just mean to help Mrs Longbottom" said a hoarse voice. "Help, help…" replied an obviously annoyed Mrs Longbottom "That's all everyone's been so keen on telling me since my accident. Does anybody bother to inform me of anything? NO! I'm too old, perhaps? I can't think straight? Well you youngsters must know this: it has not come the day when Adele Longbottom will lack mental capacity!" On each side of the door, someone sighed heavily. "That's not what we think Mrs Longbottom" said the voice inside of the room "I just about know as much as you do, you're going to have to wait for Professor Dumbledore to learn any more and I'm afraid this could take some time as he's quite busy these days." Heavy silence "In the mean time, why don't you let me check on you?" Mrs Longbottom mumbled something Neville couldn't hear so he leaned closer to the door. Then he realised what he was doing…

"What have you said?" asked the man with a gruff voice. "I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE YOU WEREWOLF!" At this sounding, Neville opened the door in a rather abrupt fashion. Both heads turned toward him, shocked. "Prof-Professor Lupin?" Neville tried to articulate, but his grand-ma cut him off. "NEVILLE! Have you been ears-dropping?" Neville hid his sweaty palms behind his back. "N-no" he stammered. Mrs Longbottom started screaming again, but Lupin just set his metallic eyes into Neville's. He walked right past him on his way out and murmured: "She's on a good mood tonight, don't you think? Have a nice evening Neville"

When they were left alone, Neville felt his head go numb. He was dandling back and forth and it seemed to him like he was currently standing in a sea of very white wadding. _Silent _wadding. Reality was all the contrary.

"Neville, Neville, are you even listening to me?" Neville shook his head and sat on the tip of the bed to help him get a grip on reality. He was sitting at the toes of the green covered bed of his grand-ma. He was facing the naked wall. Behind his back, Mrs Longbottom continued to ramble for what seemed like hours. Finally, Neville turned around, leaned toward the bedside table and took the humid cloth which was waiting there. With a heart breaking look to his face, he began neatening his plaintiff grandmother.

* * *

It was almost ten on a Wednesday night. The streets of London were desert. A tall and thin man was trying to run against the wind. His fragile stature was easily taken aback by the strong breeze. He had thinning red hair with a bald spot. He wore, glasses, a brown leather jacket and beige golf pants. That man's name was Arthur Weasley. Little would anybody notice, in the darkness of the night, but a long, timid blue tear ran from the corner of his eye to join the forest of his flaming hair.

* * *

Neville closed the door cautiously. She was finally asleep. He rested his back on the cold surface of the door and let his head fall back against it. He closed his eyes and fought against the army of tears that formed behind his eyes. He put his fists on his eyes and pressed harshly. Hadn't his family suffered enough? Why did they have to go through this. They already were having enough of a hard time just getting through to each other. Who sent it on them? Neville felt just as alone and ignorant as his grand, the difference was major though. He, was not powerless. He could walk, see and talk. He was to be heard and people could do no other than listen to him. 

Or so he thought.

* * *

Remus Lupin was folding shirts and pullovers when Neville made irruption in his room. "I-I'm sorry" the boy began shyly "the door was open and I thought… I mean… I didn't want to disturb you…" Remus took on folding pants and robes now and putting them in a black trunk. "It's quite alright Neville" he said with a calm voice. And when the boy didn't speak, he simply added "You wanted to see me?" Neville sounded hesitant "I-uh… yes. But, you-you're going somewhere?" "Not for a long time. As your grandmother gently pointed out, I am a werewolf and…" Neville cut him off "I'm very sorry about that Professor. I have no idea what's got into her, I plead you to be forgiving of her on my behalf, she; she's not really mean, just a little sharp…" 

"I told you already Neville, you don't have to call me professor anymore" Lupin sighed and put one hand on Neville's shoulder "But you're wrong. She doesn't mean to be sharp. She's just old and very very tired. She's feeling insecure and afraid at the same time. It's not her fault" Neville looked away. His relationship with his grandma was a sensitive nerve.

Lupin caught it that Neville was feeling uncomfortable and went on about his departure "It will be full moon soon and…" Neville cut him _again_ "Didn't Professor Snape used to give you a potion so you could change into an harmless wolf?" Lupin raised one eyebrow suspiciously "I don't know how you learned that" he began "and I don't want to. The thing is…" he stopped for a moment and gazed intensely through the air in front of him. He looked… hurt. "The thing is, a regular wolf isn't really harmless either. I don't think Molly would be too pleased with having a wolf in her housing" Neville looked surprised for an instant "This is Mrs Weasley's house! I thought that the Weasley…" Neville realised he had gone too far. He turned a deep shade of red and tried to redeem himself "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, it's just…" he paused and waited for his interlocutor to say something, anything that could dissipate the thick, twisted feeling of tension that had faultily infiltrated the room. "Actually this… this house doesn't belong to anyone… cu-currently."

Lupin laid his head back down and closed his eyes. The thought of Sirius was still very harmful. So fresh, still there, wide open; the wound was present with him every second of the day.

Both of them leaped two feet high when a terrible high pitched scream rang through the vast house. "Oh no" was Remus' only comment as he left the room and ran down the stairs. Neville followed him quickly and soon found himself in front of the life-sized portrait of a very aged woman. She had long, layered grey and white hair and her skin looked yellowish. She was obviously screaming at the top of her voice (or so one could hope) and looked very… unpleasant (this was the least you could say). Soon were reassembled Molly, Bill, Charlie and a pretty, young woman with a pale, heart-shaped face whom Neville did not know. She had short fluo pink hair and her eyes were dark and twinkling. The adults began trying to hide her behind moldy curtains and hexing silencing charms at her. Neville, very slothful, just walked away.

* * *

It was very late at night, but Neville couldn't fall asleep. He sat on his bed. The room was so dark he could not see his hand if he raised it in front of his eyes. He got up and opened the door. The corridor was empty, but silent in a weird kind of way. A _noisy _kind of silence. Neville had an uncomfortable feeling about this corridor. He didn't know what was hiding at the end of it, he couldn't even see the end of it, so big was it. The day of his arrival Mrs Weasley had simply warned him of not going there. Neville wasn't stupid. And, unlike others, his curiosity wasn't an excuse to his bravery. 

Now that he thought about it, Neville had an unsure feeling about all of this house. As thought it were filled with dark magic. The only time when he felt safe was with people. But then, he had to fight against another kind of fear, internal, which commanded him of being alone.

Neville walked down the stairs with the intention of helping himself with a large cup of hot chocolate. On the last step of the stairs, he found himself face to face with… someone. It was so dark he couldn't even see there was a human being in front of him. He knew it because he could hear the beat of heart, feel the rush of his breath. In a protective reflex, Neville got out his wand and stuck it in what was apparently the intruder's stomach. Both breathed heavily in the dark. Neville could feel his palms getting wet and he rearranged his grip on his wand just before it slipped from his sweaty fingers. Somehow, he had the certitude that the person in front of him was slowly getting out his wand. Neville stiffened. The other one was going to say an incantation, cast a spell on him and he couldn't help, but stay there immobile. Neville's heart raced faster and faster. Suddenly, a recognisable voice said "Lumos".

Neville blinked twice rather than once for the blue magic light which had appeared in front of him was blinding him. "Mis-Mister Weasley?" called a squeaky Neville. He couldn't help, but notice the wet corner of his eye. Mr Weasley caught where Neville's glance was heading and nervously wiped his eye. "I-uh, I just came to get a box of tissues…" said Mr Weasley, rather anxiously. "But, but, can't you sleep?" said Mr Weasley as thought he was committing the very improbable act of trying to have a discussion at this point in the night. He wasn't looking directly at Neville and he seemed rather preoccupied. "I don't even know where they keep the tissues in this place" he murmured, more talking to himself than anything else. Both Neville and Mr Weasley raised their head when a long and noisy sob was heard. Mr Weasley jumped on the first step of the stairs, jumped back down, made a whole turn on himself and finished this dance with really wide and useless arm movements.

Neville stood there, embarrassed, not knowing what to do. Finally, Mr Weasley caught sight of an old dirty cloth laying on the tip of the handrail. He took it in his hand, pointed his wand at it and Neville saw it transform into a baby blue box of tissues. With a small, rather saddening smile toward Neville, Mr Weasley left.

Neville, not knowing what to do, decided he hadn't better to do than to follow him. He turned where he had seen Mr Weasley disappear behind a door and found himself in a dinning room as vast as a cavern. Mrs Weasley was sitting in the middle of one side of the very large wooden table. On her left was Mr Weasley, patting her back and murmuring soothing words to her ear. The transfigurated box of tissues was in front of him. On Mrs Weasley's right side were Charlie, holding her hand, and then Bill. On another side of the table were the twins, Fred and George, and facing them were Remus Lupin and that woman with pink hair Neville had seen earlier that night. Sitting opposite to Mr and Mrs Weasley were Ginny, Ron and… to Neville's disbelief, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Neville remained upright in withdrawal behind of Harry. He was feeling a little out of place, seeing as this looked like a Weasley's family reunion. He was about to leave when George caught sight of him. Ever since Neville had arrived, George had tried to include Neville in the communal life of Grimmauld Place. Neville found this was very kind, but it made him feel embarrassed, as thought the others thought he needed someone to take care of him. George took on recalling the latest events for Neville's sake.

"And he told dad that he wouldn't come" concluded George. Everyone looked demolished, but Ronald hit the table with both his fists, got up and left the room. Hermione went after him, but, surprisingly enough, Harry stayed behind.

* * *

And so the life at Number 12 Grimmauld Place went on, with his odds and its bad lucks. Its people were trying their best to live together without hurts, but it wasn't easy everyday. Order members came and went every other day, not paying much attention to the children. Neville spent most of his time alone, reading. He'd seen Professor Lupin since he'd came back, and his grand of course, but not the others. The ambience was very tended. Molly was dropping thing and crying and sobbing whenever she thought anyone made a reference to her third son, Harry was getting upset every now and then (which appeared to be quite often) and he seemed particularly aggravated with Neville's presence. Mrs Longbottom was slowly, but surely recovering, with the help of Lupin who acted as an healer for her. Hermione had took on spending some time with the lady everyday and it surprised everyone that Mrs Longbottom seemed to quite enjoy this time with the young girl. Dumbledore hadn't made any appearance yet and it seemed to upset more people than just Neville.

* * *

On the 28th of July, Mrs Longbottom was finally able to get out of her room. It was a good thing since she had spent the last two days complaining about the decoration of her room. Hermione had tried her luck and put a nature's painting on the nude wall face her bed, but Mrs Longbottom had been so angry about it that Hermione had immediately taken it down.

Now, she was free to leave her room and it was just as good. Lupin and Molly had spent the previous evening charming and transfiguring so they could manage a lift in the old house. That morning, Neville helped his grand-ma out of bed and got her into the living room of the ground floor. When Neville made his entrance, everyone fell silent. He was pushing a rather grumpy Mrs Longbottom by the handle of the wheelchair in which she was sitting. Molly smiled easily, and it was beautiful to see her doing so after all those days and nights she'd spent crying, and invited Neville to join them. Neville smiled back and placed his grand-mother's chair in front of the fireplace, near Hermione who was reading a book in a green armchair. The old lady smiled gently to her friend and they fell into deep conversation. Neville then sat beside Ginny, Bill, Fred and George who were looking Ron and Charlie play chest and making jokes about it. The whole lot of them were laughing. Harry, Lupin and the woman who Neville now knew liked to be named Tonks were sitting around a small round table nearby. They were talking happily in front of smoking cups of hot chocolate. Molly and Arthur were sitting close on a green couch, checking an old, beaten-up photographs album.

And so life goes on.

* * *

**Review:)**


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